


Living Ghosts

by BookNerd27



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, you get arrested
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29096979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookNerd27/pseuds/BookNerd27
Summary: You met Emily in Italy when she was undercover as Lauren. You got very close to her and Ian, but they didn't know that you were undercover as well, looking for missing girls. 5 years later, the BAU is looking into a series of murders and you end up arrested. You discover that Lauren is not as dead as you thought she was.*Takes place around season 4*This story is written in second person, but I gave the reader a name because I find reading with Y/N kind of difficult
Relationships: Emily Prentiss/Original Character(s), Emily Prentiss/Reader, Ian Doyle/Emily Prentiss
Comments: 7
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Flashbacks are in italics  
> Your name undercover was Isabella Sanchez, and your real name is Amy Pearce, but your friends call you Em.  
> This is my first time posting a fic! Please let me know if you have any thoughts or suggestions. The timelines might not be completely accurate, because I have not watched these episodes in a while.

_The bar is filled with cigarette smoke. The smell fills your nostrils and has you gagging, wondering how many showers it will take to wash this place off your skin. Everyone had acted like you were ready for this, saying you were everything that Interpol had wanted. You were the youngest agent they had ever shoved undercover, having graduated college at eighteen and ending up in the field less than a year later. They needed you; that was their excuse. They needed your ear for languages. You currently spoke eight, but what mattered right now was that you spoke Italian. They said that they needed you to find the dozens of girls that had gone missing from bars in one small Italian town, and they suspected that some people with a significant amount of power were involved. There should have been dozens of eye-witnesses, but no one wanted to talk. So their natural solution was to have you head to a different bar every night, hoping you would be kidnapped.  
_

_The one upside to this whole situation was your boss, James Coleman. He was like the older brother you had always wanted. He led his team, your team, with courage and confidence. He was the only person you could contact throughout your strange predicament. He told you to try and make this fun. If not fun, at least a game. See how many different people you could seduce, how many people you could get to take you home. It was fun at first, but now you were so lost. This was not who you were at all. You wanted to go home and read books and drink tea on your patio in the rain. You didn't want to be here, in this strange bar where you didn't know if you could trust the bartender. There were too many sweaty bodies dancing way too close together. Then she walks in, and your world stops._

_Her beautiful dark hair perfectly frames her face, and her brown eyes look sweet and haunted at the same time. Her posture is different than everyone else in the bar. She looks as though she knows she's superior to everyone. She looks like she knows what she wants and what she's doing. You want to go home with her tonight. At this point, you realize that you've been staring for far too long and should probably find a different thing to stare at intensely and hope she won't notice. Unfortunately she does, and soon she's walking over.  
_

_"Like what you see?" she asks._

_"I don't know, do you?" you respond. She looks surprised. Suddenly you feel uncomfortable and too small. You try to pull your shirt up, feeling too exposed with the neckline not leaving enough to the imagination. You wished you were already drunk, or at least able to drink at all. Then you realize she's laughing, and maybe you haven't screwed up after all._

_"Do I what?" she questions playfully._

_"Like what you see."_

_She laughs again, her cheeks slowly turning pink as she admits,_

_"Yes. I do. What's your name?"_

_"I'm Izzy," you answer. You almost told her your real name, and that would not have been good. You're not usually this nervous or flustered at all. You're not really a fan of the whole crush with butterflies in your stomach thing._

_"Izzy? No last name?"_

_"I don't give my last name to strangers."_

_"Izzy, I don't plan on staying a stranger. I'm Lauren. Lauren Reynolds."_

_"It's nice to meet you Lauren. Do you dance?" you ask, working up your confidence._

_"I do, but not right now."_

_You nervously chew the inside of your cheek, wondering where the hell this is going._

_"What do you want to do then?"_

_"Would you like to come meet my boyfriend?" she asks, a trace of nervousness in her voice._

_"Your boyfriend?"_

_"We're looking for company," she states, her cheeks bright red._

_This is not something you would normally do, or do ever. But hey, maybe you might finally get kidnapped! And Lauren is really hot. You must hesitate a second too long because Lauren looks like she's preparing to leave._

_"Sure!" you say, with way more confidence than you feel. "Let me text me friends to tell them I'm leaving."_

_You pull out your phone and quickly text James: Might have something. Keep you posted, look for me in the morning._

_Then you plaster a smile on your face and grab your clutch.  
_

_"Ready!"_

_Lauren grabs your hand and pulls you out of the bar, and you actually enjoy yourself for the first time in Italy.  
_

* * *

The BAU is investigating the murder of guards and captains on privately owned boats docked along the coasts of Britain and the US. They are working on a joint task force with Interpol, and everybody's feeling the stress and pressure from the higher-ups. But after a week of working nonstop, they find a fingerprint in the cabins of both boats. It belongs to an Amy Pearce. But the name only brings up more questions.

"Sir, this girl is just weird!" Garcia tells Hotch.

"It can't be that bad. Come on, Garcia we need something. Tell me you have an address," he responds.

"That's the thing, my lovlies. I don't have anything. No bank account, no credit card, no phone number, nothing. That's where things get weirder. I figured she has to exist somewhere, right? So after an lot of very legal and definitely bureau approved hacking, I found over a dozen sealed Interpol files."

"Babygirl, tell me you can open them," says Morgan.

"That's the thing, I can't. I've tried everything, and any attempt to hack these files will send an alert directly to someone's computer. But what I did find is a photo."

"Can you-"

"Run facial recognition and send it to your tablets? Already done!" With that, Hotch, Morgan, and Reid, hear the click of the phone and their tablets' text alert.

"What are we supposed to with this? We literally have nothing!" exclaims Morgan, growing frustrated with the lack of any concrete leads.

Reid glances at the photo, and then exclaims,

"Hey, I know this girl!"

"You know a girl?!" teases Morgan.

"No, seriously. She goes to the same coffee shop that I do."

"Don't you go to some dump of a coffee shop in the worst neighborhood in the city?" asks Morgan.

"Theoretically speaking, there's no such thing as good or bad neighborhoods, it's just society's perception of the-"

"Reid." Hotch interjects.

"Right, anyway, we could go to the coffee shop and see if anyone recognizes her picture and knows where she might live."

************************************************************

"Wow Reid, this place really is a dump," says Morgan. "You're sure you've seen her here?"

"Yeah. She was probably drawn to it for the same reason I was. Not a lot of tourists or outside traffic. No one should be able to find you here."

"Focus. Let's see if the owner knows anything," Hotch interrupts.

They walk into the coffee shop (shop being a generous word), go up to the counter, and flip open their badges.

"FBI, can we speak to the owner?" Morgan asks.

"You're lookin' at him," responds the grumpy-looking bald man behind the counter. "Name's Mike."

"We've heard that this girl does visits here occasionally, do you recognize her?" Hotch asks.

"No, sorry, can't say that I do." He doesn't actually sound very sorry. "I'm old, you know. Memory loss and all. Don't really remember a lot of customers."

At this point, Spencer steps out from behind Morgan and Hotch. Mike's face lights up.

"Toothpick! We've missed you around here! Would you like your usual?" Mike exclaims enthusiastically. It isn't until he's staring at the glares of the agents that he realizes his mistake.

"Let's try this again. Do you recognize this girl?" Hotch asks, firmer this time.

"I told you I don't know who that is. Like I said, some people are just easily forgettable."

"You want to know what I think, Mike? I think you're covering for someone. And I think that things are going to get a whole lot worse for you if you don't help us out here," Morgan says threateningly.

"Look, fellows, I'd really love to help you-"

At this point, the bell on the door dings and everyone turns around and stares. Mike's face falls, but you don't notice until you're already inside of the coffee shop.

Hotch, Morgan, and Reid jump into action.

Morgan tackles you to the ground and hand-cuffs you.

"Amy Pearce, you're under the arrest for the murders of..."

Crap. Your head starts pounding as you try and block out the noises around you. You had a feeling this day wasn't going to go well.

*****************************

Back at headquarters, the team springs into action trying to put together your profile and figure out interrogation techniques.

"Are we sure it's her?" asks J.J. "She doesn't look large enough to inflict this kind of violence on these men."

"It doesn't matter, we need to figure out what she knows as soon as possible," responds Hotch. "Emily, I want you to question her first. Try and build some rapport with her, she's more likely to open up to a female."

"Okay," says Emily. She's desperately trying to figure out what happened while she and J.J. went to check out the latest crime scene, so she doesn't look closely at the person in her interrogation room until after the door clicks shut behind her. When she looks up, her heart drops.

"Izzy?!" she gasps.  
"Lauren! What the fuck are you doing here?"


	2. Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily begins her interrogation, and the team runs into some issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emily and you switch languages a couple of times, which I didn't really know how to convey. Let me know if you like this chapter!

"Hello, I'm Agent Emily Prentiss and I'm going to ask you some questions about-"

"No. You're dead. You died. I went to your funeral. This isn't real," you plead desperately. Lauren, no, **Emily,** looks behind her at the mirror, terrified.

"I can assure you-"

"They don't know, do they? What you did? Oh, this is going to be so much fun," you say, pretending to be confident. You're not. You hate this. You feel sick, confused, and lost. Lauren Reynolds died in a car accident. James told you, he went to the funeral with you, he held you while you cried over a woman you should not have fallen in love with. You went down so many roads filled with demons because of her. And now here she is, alive, and everything you thought you knew about her is a lie. You scold yourself internally, because the same is true for you. 

"Is your name really Amy Pearce?" she asks, and you think she's confused. She's wearing the emotionless mask you'd seen her slip on when she thought Doyle wasn't looking, building up walls to keep her safe from any feelings. It's probably the most useful skill you learned from her.

You sigh, and say, "Yes. Listen, you need to text Clyde-"

"You know Clyde-"

"Yes, I know Clyde. Well, I know about him. Tell him the BAU has the torpedo," you say, matching her emotionless stare. You're holding back tears. She's alive, and she never tried to find you.

Emily hesitates, and then she pulls out her phone.

"Show me," you demand, and she flips her phone towards you. You read the message and watch her press send.

"No, show me the number," you say, feigning exasperation. Emily rolls her eyes, but presses the contact, and you examine the number.

"Good. Now, Agent Prentiss, it appears we have some catching up to do," you flirt, batting your eyelashes. "Lock the door."

"That's against protocol," Emily replies, starting to lose confidence.

"You've never cared about that before, Agent."

"It doesn't lock from the inside." Now it's your turn to roll your eyes.

"Yes, it does Agent, look at the doorknob," you point, and her face falls when she catches sight of the lock. She slowly pushes her chair back and flicks the lock, regret filling her face.

"Would you like to apologize to your team now, or save it for when this is over?" you ask, pretending not to care.

"Izz-Amy, please don't do this," she begs.

"Agent, I asked you a question," you say, making your voice sharp and steely.

"When it's over. When will this be over?" Emily asks, giving up.

"Well, Clyde has to text James, James has to smooth things out so I can get out of here. Then he has to catch a flight to make sure that I'm 'okay' or whatever. Anyway, we should be out room within the hour, and I'll be out of your hair within the next twelve, depending on whether or not James commandeers a jet." You finish your spiel, leaving Emily looking more anxious than you've ever seen her.

"Well, Agent Prentiss, are you ready?"

********************

During this exchange, the team is standing behind the glass, watching in shock.

"What the hell is happening?" asks Morgan. They watch Emily stand up and lock the door. Rossi immediately tries the handle.

"It won't budge," he says, disheartened.

"I could kick it open," says Morgan. "What's one more door destroyed?"

"New FBI initiative. Force resistant doors, the only way to get them open is with the key or some pretty significant explosives," counters Hotch. 

"Look, they're not harming each other, and we can have video and audio. We can monitor them, see what we learn," Rossi responds. Hotch runs his hands through his hair, and sighs,

"Alright, fine. Have Garcia see if she can figure out how they know each other," says Hotch, giving in.

"Cross-checking Emily Prentiss and Amy Pearce through my systems, the knowledge within will soon be-oh no."

"Garcia?"

"Sir, we have a problem. Like, an oh-crap-we-are-gonna-be-in-so-much-trouble-problem."

"Babygirl, what happened," presses Morgan.

"My search must have triggered something in the sealed Interpol files, because my entire system just went black. In fact, I think I might have temporary disabled the entire FBI computer network," replies Garcia anxiously.

"We'll deal with this later, Garcia," says Hotch.

"Or when Strauss shows up and decides to bite our heads of, whatever happens first!" responds Rossi cheerfully.

"Great. So, we have a potential murderer who has just gotten one of our agents to willingly lock herself in a room alone with her. We've probably disabled the entire FBI computer network, and we don't have a profile on this girl. What else could go wrong?" says Reid, frustrated.

Just then, the click of high heels makes everyone flinch. They slowly turn around, afraid to look.

"Reid, did you really have to ask that?" says Morgan, rubbing his hands on his temples.

******************

Back in the interview room, you and Emily are just getting started.

"Am I ready for what?" asks Emily nervously.

"To conduct your interview. I mean, I'm being arrested for murder, I figured you'd at least have some questions for me," you say nonchalantly.

"Right-yes, we were wondering what you could tell us about these men," she says, putting a gruesome array of photos in front of you. Something catches your eye.

"I'll tell you, but I'd appreciate it if your team couldn't understand it," you say, switching to Italian. "Does anyone speak Italian?" 

"Rossi."

"Right then, Arabic?" you ask.

"You speak Arabic?" she asks, surprised. You remember how much she doesn't know about you. "Yeah, we should be the only ones able to understand that," Emily responds. 

"How long until they can get a translator?" you ask.

"Half an hour, more if they're unlucky."

"Lovely, let's get started," you say sarcastically. You examine the photos.

"I recognize them," you state, pointing to the two photos on the top left. "Were they killed near Dublin?" you ask. She looks shocked. You realize you probably shouldn't have said that.

"Yes they were, Amy," she responds, "How could you know that?"

"Well, that might sort of be my fault..."

"Sort of? You can't sort of murder someone!"

"Well, technically I only did about half of that-"

"Half?! Amy, did you kill those two men?" she asks, hiding her fear behind anger.

"Yes."


End file.
